Into a New Age
by Ryoko Metallium
Summary: TEMP.HIATUS With the Blight is over, Alistair becomes king of Fereldan and marries his true love Lady Cousland. And yet, too bad for his highness that happy endings are just the stuff of myths and lies...Maker save them both. They're going to need it...
1. Chapter 1 : Kings and Queens

Title: Into a New Age

Author: Ryoko Metallium

**Author's Note: Allow me to be brief - I come upon Dragon Age during my search to play a really good RPG. Since it's so close to the holiday season, I didn't want to spend money on a game I didn't know if I was going to enjoy. So I rented a copy from Blockbuster as part of a test run...and I'll it hostage for two weeks. And in those two weeks I found myself becoming a hardcore Alistair fan-girl. As these things usually go, I had to write something as an outlook for my growing obsession.**

**One thing that I do hope I did well with this story, aside from my usual terrible editing skills, is that I managed to capture Alistair's sense of humor. I think that his personality was the hardest to write down. I ended up recording his dialouge on my trusty mini-recorder and listening to it as tool when writing his character. I hope I manage to do a good job with him.**

**Please forgive any bad spelling and grammer as I did the editing myself and I suck terribly in finding my own mistakes**

**ENJOY!**

**Special thanks to Pancake Beast for finding my previous mistakes that I had overlooked.**

**UPDATE - 7/1/10: IN CASE YOU'RE JUST RE-READING THIS, YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED THAT I HAVE MADE SOME CHANGES, SUCH AS ADDING A NAME TO THE COUSLAND CHARACTER. AFTER CAREFUL CONSIDERATION, I DECIDED TO DO AWAY WITH THE IDEA OF FIRST PERSON. I REALIZED THAT IT WOULD BECOME TO DIFFICULT TO WRITE IN FUTURE CHAPTERS. PLEASE FORGIVE THE ALTERATIONS. I WILL TRY AND KEEP THEM TO A MINIUMAL.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins. It is the property of Electronic Arts and Bioware Inc. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them; I promise that I'll give them back.**

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Chapter One:

Kings and Queens

The term 'nervous' didn't even come close to describing the state of Alistair, Grey Warden and newly crowned king of all Fereldan. 'Tense' may have been better. 'Anxious' was good one too. He always had a particle delight with 'apprehensive', but not so much with 'high-strung.' Made him sound old. Call it whatever you may, nerves or the plate of hogs meat he had for lunch that smelled odd but he ate it anyway, there was only one word to adequately delineate just how Alistair was feeling: nauseous.

The elven butlers and hand maidens surrounding him noticed his fatigue and offered him wine or herbal tea to get him relaxed, but in all honestly if they didn't leave the room and quick, he felt as if he was going to spew his guts. The hollow pit in his stomach churned with acid that he could feel rising up in the back of his throat. An acquired yet unpleasant taste. He reeled on his feet like a drunk. Alistair found himself pacing back and forth in an effort to keep himself busy, which was only annoying the ones who were trying to finish their work.

"Your highness, please calm yourself. This will take even longer if you do not remain still."

Alistair finally surrendered and planted himself firmly in the center of his chambers to let the elves complete the task of adding the final touches to his wardrobe. He put out his arms mockingly like a stuffed scarecrow in a wheat field, groaning in total embarrassment. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror didn't help any as he was rewarded with a profusely sweating, pale slob of a man starting back at him. How poetic; a sweating nauseous fool dressed in some of the finest garments that septums could buy. Armor plated with gold and blessed by the mages adorned him that bore the symbol of the royal kingdom on his chest while a long velvet cape trailed behind him. He looked ridiculous. It was hard to ignore the giggles coming from the handmaidens who were clearly smitten by his appearance, but Alistair had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

Was all this glamour really necessary? Sure, he was the king and apparently looks were everything when it came to your first day on the job, but at the same time it was _his _wedding day. Why couldn't he just wear what he wanted; at least something that didn't make him look and feel so out of place? Maker's breath, he was going to puke.

Seemingly by a miracle the Arl Eamon, who had been like a father to Alistair all his life, came into his quarters to check on how his majesty's dressing was faring. The old man looked to be recovering remarkable well considering how long he had be suffering from being poisoned by a blood mage and his spirit trapped in the Fade to wander aimlessly. He looked upon Alistair with a glimmer of pride in his eyes, as if he was staring at his own son. Arl Eamon had never said it before, but he had always wanted the best for the forgotten child of King Maric. He prayed from nothing else and today it seemed like a small portion of his prayers was being answered.

"How goes your wedding preparations your highness?" he asked.

"You know…it's going to take a really long time for me to get used to hearing you call me that" Alistair smirked. "It just sounds so…official."

Arl Eamon chuckled. "Well maybe that's because it is official Alistair. You are Fereldan's high ruler and leader now. People will be looking to you for guidance, so best start getting used to the title quickly my boy. You'll be hearing it a lot in the coming years."

"Oh goody…so it in other words no pressure huh?" Alistair groaned again. The nauseous pit in his gut was starting to grow just thinking about the enormous responsibility that had been thrust down upon his shoulders. Suddenly the threat of a darkspawn blight seemed like summer's day walk compared to situation he now found himself in. The last piece of clothing was fastened to his armor; elegant clips with gold tassels hooked to his shoulder plates. Alright, now he looked like idiot. Just a crown to it and this freakish costume would be complete. The elven servants bowed loyally and ushered themselves out without saying a word. A surreal moment for the Warden, and he shook his solemnly. Arl Eamon saw the change of expression as he watched them leave.

"See that, right there? That's what I was worried about; people treating me differently once I revealed my lineage to them." Alistair looked over his facade in the mirror again, taking in the beautified image before him. "They'll no longer see me as Alistair the person anymore. They just see a sovereign who has his lesser bowing at his feet and living the high life of affluence. Trust me; you don't exactly win popularity contests with the hanging over your head."

"Truthfully I do not think the treatment would've been any different had you remained a Grey Warden."

"I still am Grey Warden old friend, even with a crown on my head. Sitting on a throne doesn't change that much."

Arl Eamon crossed his arms. "You know what I mean Alistair. You were well recognized even as a Grey Warden. It helped earn you the respect of the people during a time of great turmoil."

"Let's not forget the unwanted attention of Loghain's men or have you forgotten already?"

"No, I haven't forgotten. And yes, many did not have the pleasure of knowing you as the man I had the honor of rising as my own. That fact aside, try not to hold that against them. Give them time and they will come to know and love you for the person that you are. I have trust that you will lead them in an age of great prosperity, perhaps even greater than even your father could even envision."

"Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?" Alistair chuckled. "I haven't been king for more than a year, and the blight is still fresh on the battlefield."

"Then let us be grateful that we have you at the helm."

Even now, Alistair took great comfort in the Arl's wise words. He spoke with patience and knowledge that he could only hope one day possess, Andraste willing. Having his foster father acting as royal advisor relieved some of the stress from his heavy shoulders. Alistair stepped forward, closing the gap between them and placed his hand on the old man's shoulder. "You continue to instill me with confidence my friend. I am thankful to have you at my side."

"Naturally," the Arl chuckled. "You are no different as from that helpless and clueless little boy with the ever dripping nose. Someone needs to be around to wipe it for you."

Alistair scoffed, sounding insulted. "Hey now! That's an unfair accusation, don't you think? I think I've grown up quite considerably after all these years! I haven't raided any lauders looking for sweets or brought home any stray animals I just happen upon. For Maker's sake, I've even grown out of wetting the bed! Now that's process!"

"Oh? And do you still require your name be stitched into your socks to keep from losing them?"

"You've been talking to Wynne haven't you?"

"Charming woman she is. She stated that looking after was like looking after her own grandson, only with more headaches and less sleep. In any case, I think I'm safe in leaving you in the future care of your bride. Speaking of which, are you ready to greet your guests? Everyone has gathered in the main hall and they are eagerly waiting for the festivities to begin."

Just then, the acidy pit that had been festering in Alistair's stomach lurched up his throat that he could taste the bile burning his tongue. His chest heaved as his lungs made a deep gagging sound. He reeled back collapsing into a well place that prevented him from breaking his nose on the floor. He rubbed his temple in hopes to stomp out a growing migraine. "Urgh…you had to remind me about it didn't you?"

"Aye. Tis the reason why that half the nobles of the lands, including representatives of the Dalish tribes and the new king of Orzammar and lest not forget the Circle of Magi have come here now." Arl Eamon eyed the young king suspiciously, noticing the fine sheets of sweat bullets dripping along his face and his shaking hands. "Are you feeling alright Alistair?"

The Wardan swallowed hard. "If I had to be honest…I feel as if I participated in a drinking match with that dwarf and lost. Oh Eamon, I've never more miserable in my life."

The old man's brow frowned with worry and dismay. "Such words worry me Alistair. I would not have wanted to hear this on today of all days. Are you saying that you do not wish to marry the Grey Warden? That you do not want this wedding to take place? Is this what you're telling me?"

"Maker's breath, No!" Alistair bolted upright from his chair in defiance, and quickly regretted such an action as the room spun uncontrollably. The Arl helped him back into his seat and patiently waited until he regained his composure. He raked his fingers through his hair and released a calming sigh. "Perhaps I spoke too soon. It has nothing to do with not wanting to marry her. That's not what I meant. Far from the truth. Marrying her…it would be like finally finding completion in my life."

Alistair rose slowly from his chair as not to agitate his insides again. He walked about the room, bringing himself over to the window which overlooked the wide courtyard as well part of the Market District. Denerim was in a state of renewal and celebration. The end of the Blight came about no more than six months prior and already Alistair could see signs that life was thankfully returning to a state of normalcy. The burnt out homes and collapsed walls were being demolished and repairs were commencing thanks in part to dwarf craftsmen who felt that their skills were most need upon the surface. Even some of the Dalish chose to stay in the city and offer aid, mostly in the elven district. The Alienage was speedily becoming a finer place to live for the elves, with improved homes, cleaner facilities and a growing patronage among the Dalish clansmen. Amongst all the construction, the king spotted a growing crowd of nobles flooding into the castle to attend what was being called the wedding of a lifetime. Crowds of dwarves, noble men and woman, elders of the mages and selective members elvish council where all coming together to take part in such an occasion.

Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden and Honor Guard of the Grey Wardens was to wed the Lady Cousland of Highever, fellow Grey Warden and Hero to the People.

Preparations had been the making just weeks after the end of the Blight. Invitations and proclamations were sent out to all members of higher courts and to all respected government of every race to attend the joining of the new crowed king and his betrothed. Frankly Alistair wished he could do away with all the formalities all together. It was a daunting sight to see the castle quickly becoming crowed with so many important officials. Even some members of the Grey Wardens from Orlais were in attendance to witness one of their brethren receive one of the highest honors. Alistair would have preferred a simple ceremony with him and his bride, several of their closest friends, cake, wine and then a romance night of unbridled passion. But nooo! As king he had to follow certain prodigal, rules and regulations that for some reason called for a wedding of a monumental degree.

Yeah, it was big deal. Ferelden was gaining a new empire after everything and Alistair was gaining a wife.

"Speak your mind son."

Alistair turned away from the window, and stared at his boots. "I love her so much" he said in barely a whisper. "I didn't know such a love could exist that could me physical ache to be away from her. It's one of those terrible yet wonderful pains you know. I love her, and it all happened without me realizing. One minute she's be inducted into the Grey Wardens as just another teammate, and the next we're engaged to wed all the while we're saving the world from total destruction. Talk about a courtship. In that time, I was able to survive because of her. She helped me to endure every hardship that would destroy a weaker man. After Duncan's death…I didn't know how to carry on. I was lost. But she guided me through my grief and ever since then, I couldn't have asked from a greater friend."

"Well, it's clear that there's nothing misgiving about your feelings towards her," said the Arl. "So what is it that has you so vexed?"

"What if I'm not good enough for her?" Alistair said suddenly. There was true fear in his eyes and uneasiness in his voice as he started his nervous pacing again. "I mean, I know in my heart that I want her and only as my wife. I cannot see myself ever feeling the same way about anyone else than I do whenever I'm around her. Oh how can I make you understand friend? She is…amazing and wonderful and beautiful. I'm near her and I go completely dumb in the head, and that's saying a lot."

Arl Eamon smirked at the Grey Warden's jab on his own intelligence. "During the Blight, if I had things my way I would have sent her away and out of danger," Alistair continued. "I mean…the very idea of her making the sacrifice for the sake of…Maker, I can't even fathom the thought." Alistair's voice choked for a moment, thinking back on the final battle with the Arch Demon. So many lives had been cut down that day. So much death, grief and sorrow were a stale poison affecting all who managed to survive the Blight. Everyone lost something that night, someone whom they would never see again. Alistair felt a pang of guilt for being a survivor. He cheated death twice, once at Ostagar and again at Fort Drakon. The truth of how the Arch Demon was finally slain was mystery to the people and had been dubbed a miracle by the Maker by the people.

Only Alistair and his betrothed knew the truth.

Another unpleasant memory of the night before itched at the back of his mind, and quickly he banished it away before it had a chance to settle. For his sake, he was feeling ill enough already.

"The point I'm trying make here is I'm worried that I won't be a good enough husband for her. You would think that the prospect of ruling an entire kingdom and having every decision you make affect the lives of so many would be what keeps me up at night, but no." Alistair's unwavering talent to throw in a joke to relieve tension thankfully hadn't been lost since taking the throne. "She deserves so much happiness after all she's been through…and I'm wondering whether or not I'm the man who can give it to her."

Arl Eamon sighed. "And that's what you've been sweating about all this time in here?"

"Yeah. That's it. Nothing monumental, just pre-wedding jitters topped off with a physically powering need to vomit," Alistair grinned sheepishly. "No biggie, right?"

"Can I then indulge some old person's wisdom?"

On a nearby table, the Arl helped himself to a bottle of wine left behind by the servants. He poured himself a goblet as well as one for Alistair, handing it off to him. "Here, liquid courage. It helps calms the nerves."

"Can I have the bottle instead? I think I might need it."

"Not today. The last thing your bride needs is her groom going down the aisle plastered out of his mind."

"It was worth a shot." Alistair guzzled down his wine then held out his goblet hoping for a refill.

"Your insecurities are normal for anyone in your position. I was there once myself. The night before I married my Isolode, I thought for sure that the world was going open up and swallow me whole. Then I realized it wasn't marriage I was most afraid of, it was failure. Failure that I would be letting down the one person whose opinion of me truly matter the most. ," said the old man, reluctantly refilling the goblet. "Unfortunately, there is no advice I can give that will guarantee a long and happy marriage. If there was such a thing, you'd see a lot of men walking around with permanent smiles on their faces."

"Is this suppost to help me? Because forgive me for saying so, I rather be drunk."

Arl Eamon chuckled as he drank from his own goblet. "I can tell you that marriage is a partnership, an affinity between two people who know each other's hearts and minds as if they were one. But such a thing does not blossom overnight; it must be nurtured and cared for with the utmost love and patience. You say you worry that you will not make your woman happy, that you will not be the man whom she deserves. I say then that's what you need to strive for. Marriage has no room for doubts, but just enough for faith. I can tell just by watching the two of you together that love is never lacking. That is good start. The rest will simply come together like pieces to a puzzle. Have faith Alistair, and everything else with follow accordingly."

Alistair swirled around the wine in his cup idly and silent, looking at his solemn expression as he pondered the Arl's logic. It all sounded all too easy, yet it made so much sense. Was love he needed to be a good husband to the woman he loved? Was he making the idea much bigger than it really needed to be? Perhaps Eamon's notion of having faith was true and that he had doubted his own strength out of fear. Alistair was a better man than that. To allow such ideas cloud his judgment was only welcoming disaster, and he'd be damned if he allowed that to happen.

He did not go through hell and back with the Arch Demon to wimp out on his wedding day.

With renewed confidence, he put down his goblet. "You were right about the wine, friend. It did give me courage, as did your words…and hey, I think it actually cured me of my nausea!" he exclaimed happily, followed by a hearty belch. "Oops…excuse me."

The Arl eyed the king suspiciously and gave him an impish grin. "Perhaps you would like to wash your face first? Refresh yourself before you say your eternal vows?"

"Nah, I'm good. I think I make it to the chapel without making a complete ass of myself…I hope." Alistair cleared his throat, puffed out his chest and marched out the door with unwavering authority. "Come then my good man! Let's go get me married!"

* * *

The term 'out of body' didn't come close to describing the state that Rene, the Lady Cousland of Highever turned Grey Warden, turned Hero of Ferelden and soon to be Queen was in. 'Surreal' was nice. 'Unbelievable' was one that she always liked growing up. She hated 'outrageous'; never had and never will. Just sounded too negative for her tastes. Call it whatever you may, a dream or the tea Leilana had her drinking all day to keep her calm but all its done is make her go to toilet every five minutes, there was only one word to sufficiently delineate just how she was feeling; amazed.

Wynne hadn't stop smiling since she began helping Rene put on her gown. She was very careful with her work, mindful of the beautiful white dress that had been specially made for Cousland. Rene would've rather had my mother's gown to wear, but that was gone away, burned in the raid along with her parents. The delicate wrinkles in Wynne's face strangely remained her of mother, making her feel as if it she was really here. Every so often, the old mage stopped what she's doing just to look at Rene. She wondered what she is thinking about. She held Rene in her gaze for several moments until finally Rene looked back at her. Tears were beginning to take form. Whether they are tears of happiness or sadness or both, Cousland cannot say for sure.

Wynne pinched Rene's cheeks and whispered into her ear. "Now now, no tears today child. Leliana has been working all day on your make-up and she'll scold you if it becomes smudge."

She dabbed them away with a handkerchief then turns to retrieve the veil, leaving Rene to stare at her reflection. The gown that she was wearing is breathtakingly wonderful; silk white with embroider gold lining the bust and the skirt. Lace sleeves covered her arms completely. Here usually wild dark brown hair has grown longer in the past couple months. Leilana had styled it long and smooth and loose, the length reaching down the length of her back with two strands curled along the sides of her face. The locket I receive upon the Joining sat upon her neckline. She was not used to wearing make-up. It felt like war paint, heavy and thick. Rene's lips were painted red and blue shadow highlights her eyes. Her beloved bridesmaids would often stop to comment on how gorgeous she looked, and as awkward as she feel, she was just going to have to trust them.

Leilana appears from the hallway, carrying a basket of freshly clipped flowers in her arms which Rene knew she plans to string in her hair like a crown or in some elaborate fashion that would probably would take hours to undo. Rene didn't know what possessed her to give her permission to do these things, but it's too late to complain about it now. Rene had been sitting in a stool the entire morning, captive at the hands of her bridesmaids who seemed to take pleasure in making her pretty. S hecan't help but wonder if Alistair is going through the same thing.

The two of them had been sequestered during the night and forced to sleep in separate chambers as part of some Theirin family tradition to keep "the bride's virtue intact." Rene didn't have the courage to argue with the palace staff as they were rushing her away to a private room to say that her virtue had already been…"claimed" by her fiancé months ago. They had been apart, not allowed to speak or see or even send any letter to the other by way of servant since then. In only a few more hours thankfully that would come to end. Rene hadn't realized how much she had grown accustomed in having Alistair at her side at all times until now.

It just made the prospect of becoming his wife all the more joyous.

"Wait a moment Leilana," Wynne spoke suddenly. "I want to put her veil on first, and then you can braid the buds in. It'll stay much more secure that way."

Wynne and Leilanna looked equally refined in their robes, both given to them as gifts from their order and signify them as top officials. The royal chest of the king was stretched into their sleeves, marking them as favored advisors to his royal highness and his court. All Alistair's idea of course. He wished to show his gratitude to his friends by giving them honored stations in his court.

"Great, now I'll never get this damn thing off my head" Rene groaned as they began to pull and tug at the delicate roots connected to her skull. "Just don't do it too tightly please. Oh and I don't want it to look too complicated either. I hate hairstyles that involve a lot of pins and whatever else woman put in it to make it stay. Simple is good enough for me."

"Relax. You're in safe hands my dear" said Leilana.

She didn't feel any better hearing that but chose to bite her tongue and let the two of them do their magic while she closed my eyes and thought of nothing but happy thoughts. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…_you're getting married today_ she told myself. _I'm_ _marrying the man whom I love with every fiber of my being. Alistair, that loveable goof who was my partner in fighting the Blight and someone whom I considered giving my life up for just to keep him from harm. Alistair, someone whom I didn't know I could care so much about that the idea of being without him destroys all belief in living. Alistair…my Alistair._

_I adored him._ In just a short amount of time since she had become a Grey Warden, Rene didn't think she could meet someone as caring and as attentive like Alistair. What started out as simple battlefield flittering and late night gift giving blossomed into a kinship of allies. At a time when she needed something to believe in, some kind hope after losing everything, Coulsand had come across this adorable, compassionate, and sometimes comical idiot that made the pain and loss bearable. The two of them somehow had fallen into each other lives under the grievance of circumstances, battling their way through hell just to stay together. Rene knew in her heart that she would love this man hard and forever…for as long as this Grey Warden body of hers would allow me time

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh?"

"You've grown rather quiet all of the sudden child," said Wynne, "so I gather that you're either thinking very hard about something important or that you have to go to the bathroom again and are holding it in."

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I'm just…reminiscing, that's all." She kept her eyes closed, wanting to savor the image of her soon-to-be husband waiting at the alter. She pictured herself standing beside him just as they were bound together as one, promised forever in matrimony. "I guess you could call it a realization. I'm just coming to terms with the thought I'm going from being a Grey Warden to now Queen of all Fereldan. It's sort of a daunting trade-off, don't you agree?"

"It will be a momentous responsibility I can say for sure. You and Alistair will be acting as Fereldan star of hope during these tough years, the light in the lingering darkness. It will be hard, but I cannot think of anyone else I would put my hopes in than the two of you. You've proven that you handle tough situations with a clear head and even clearer judgment. It's not so often that kingdoms are blessed with such rulers. Just don't think too hard on it now; you'll make yourself sick. Right now all you should be focusing on is looking pretty for Alistair."

'_Oh believe me…I am,' _Rene wanted to say, but instead she mustered a very girly smile and giggle. "It's too bad that Sten couldn't make it to the wedding today, although now that I think about it I doubt that he'd go to these kinds of events. Has my brother arrived yet?"

Leliana nodded as she curled and looped a strand of hair in with the fabric of the veil and the steam of the flowers. "I just saw him outside the great hall greeting the guests as they arrive. He's also keeping that hound of yours busy, least he come in here and drool over your gown or make a mess in the lauder. I have to say, your Fergus is quite the example of chivalry. I went to offer my best wishes on Highevers renewal and he practically bowed before me like I was the High Mother."

Rene couldn't help but snicker. "My brother has always held a certain respect to the Chantry. Our parents trained us to be honorable in the presence of those you preach the good work. But you know, maybe he was being so kind to you because he found you to be a lovely woman is all. Fergus is kind man. Father taught him to be gentleman. You two would get along quite well."

Leilana scoffed. "And what are you suggesting? That I…fraternize with your brother?"

"Why not?"

"Isn't he still in mourning over the loss of his wife and son thanks to the Arl Howe? How would that look if I began flirting with him openly while he is still grieving?"

"I'm not saying you should sleep with the man!" Rene laughed. "Just keep him company, that's all. You know during the ceremony. Yes, he still grieves from his wife and his son, and it hasn't been easy for him to be in Highever after all that happened in that place. It was our home, but after what the Arl Howe did…I don't know if it'll ever be the same for either one of us."

She chewed on her lip hard to stifle the terrible memories of the night that Cousland house was burned to the ground and overrun by invaders. She didn't want to remember the image of her poor father bleeding his last on the floor in the kitchen while her mother cradled him close to her, whispering her goodbyes to him…and to her daughter. Rene could still her voice as she tried to reassure us both. 'We've had a good life, my darling.' Had Duncan not conscripted her and forced her to leave, she would've died along with them.

She wouldn't be getting married today.

"I just don't want him to be alone Leilana. I…I can't be with him and help him rebuild what we lost, so I would feel much better about him if he had a friend to confide in." Rene turned to look at the sister, hoping that her request wasn't putting Leilana out. "I don't want to ask something that you're not willing to, but at least consider it."

Maker bless Leilana for bestowing her with such understanding compassion. She seemed to understand Rene's desire to be with her brother during a time that had been most difficult for him, and the regret that she couldn't be in two places at once. Fergus was the last of any family that she had left in the world. For all he had endured, he shouldn't have to face it on his own. Someone like Leilana whose calming personality could bring light to any dark place could be just the companion Fergus needed. "Befriend him for me Leilana."

She smiled and gave a censure nod of her head. "It would be my pleasure then."

"Thank you my friend."

"Alright now, enough talk on all this dreariness," said Wynne. "Today is happy day and I will no stand for the bride to be in any state of distress." The old woman weaved one more lock of hair into the arrangement of flowers with her expert fingers, and then took a step back to admire her work. "There; absolutely wonderful. Alistair won't be able to take his eyes off of you my dear. Here, take a look at yourself."

With belated breath and a belly full of butterflies, Rene gathered the courage to gaze at herself in the mirror…and was completely stunned. She didn't know how they had done it, but the hairstyle the two of them had fashioned for her wasn't too complex or too boring at all. A band of flowers had been weaved into a small braid that went from ear to the next, and the veil had been woven into the braid with small ribbons that I hadn't even noticed before. The veil itself was embroidered lace that cascaded down her shoulders, draping and pooling around me with the dress. Rene was breathless. She truly did look like a bride ready to meet her groom.

A far cry from the Grey Warden who wore dwarfen armor splattered with darkspawn blood and reeked of hell fire and brimstone.

Rene guessed that her faith in the bard and the mage was well-placed.

"You're speechless, yes?" asked Leilana, chuckling.

Rene opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out rather than a wordless breath. "Y-you guys…I don't know what to say. It all looks so perfect…thank you."

Wynne beamed again, her hand touching her cheek as she leaned in close to brush a gentle kiss to Rene's forehead. She whispered softly to her a prayer from her heart as Rene leaned her head against her. "Nothing makes my heart soar more with joy than to see you happy, dear girl. The Maker has blessed me long with time to see make great things, but today will be the greatest I ever had the pleasure to witness."

"Wynne…"

"Hush now, I said no tears remember?" It was hard not to cry. Wynne had become Rene's substitute mother and grandmother during all their travels, and today she cherished her company more than anything. She loved her for being there when she needed her the most, to listen to her whenever she felt like talking and for helping find strength in her weakest moments. The spirit that inhabited her body, sustaining her life was kind enough to let Rene keep her these past six months, and Rene hoped beyond everything else that the old woman would remain with her for much longer. She tenderly cradled Cousland to her bosom in a motherly embrace, muttering some prayers that she couldn't quite make out.

Leilana watched them, silent and sympathetic.

A sudden click of the doors' lock caught them all by surprise; someone was coming in. Rene made herself as presentable as possible, wiping away any tears that may have leaked through, checking herself in the mirror once more. "How goes everything? Are you descent pup?" Rene looked up to see her dearest brother Fergus, the just named teryn of Highever, stepping in looking dashing and handsome in his wedding clothes. He smiled with astonishment when he saw his sister, his features looking just like their father. He then put out his arms out, requesting an embrace and Rene did not hesitate in rushing into his arms, hugging him tightly. Even his hugs remained her of their father; strong, protective yet gentle.

"Maker's breath little sister…you look beautiful," he said with a sigh. "Mother and father would be so proud if they could see how much their youngest has grown up. A Grey Warden, then Hero of Ferelden and now getting married to the new king! I have to admit; I find myself rather envious."

"What? Don't tell me that you want to marry Alistair too brother?" she joked.

He snorted like a hog. "What, and steal such a fine prize away from you? Perish the very thought! Do not fret however – your Alistair may be a great man and warrior as well as king, but that does very little to match my tastes. I do trust that this great man of yours will know how to care for you properly least he endure the wrath of the Cousland family...and by that I do mean me. I would very displeased to hear if he were to dishonor in anyway."

Being six years older than, Rene had become accustomed to her brother becoming an overprotective brute whenever he felt his 'dear baby sister' was in need of defending. It had been that way since she was but a stumbling babe out of the cradle taking her first steps around the castle. Dear Fergus was always at the ready to shield her from all who would hurt her that including would-be suitors. She remembered fondly how Ser Gilmore made a comment that she looked 'impressive' out in the practice yard. Fergus overheard and cornered the poor man threatening with something along the lines of, 'You best be mindful of whose sister you plan on wooing good ser.'

Gilmore never flirted with Rene again.

"My brother is such a rogue," Rene said, punching him in his arm.

"Yes. But a very handsome rogue at that," I heard Lelianna say. She batted her eyes at him playfully while she put away all the combs, pins and brushes. Rene saw the noted rise of his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"He still thinks of me as someone who would benefit more from a nanny than a husband. Fergus I love you dearly, but do not judge Alistair so quickly like you have with my other suitors. I will not need looking after as much as you think. We should be looking out for each other."

"Wise words pup," he said. "I pray then that your marriage proves to be the blessing you so richly deserve. Mother and father may not be here today, but their spirit watch us now from the Fade. And I sense in my heart that they are joyous as any parents could be."

He kissed both of her cheeks and gave another warm hug before addressing Wynne and Lelianna. "Come now ladies. Arl Eamon has just escorted his royal highness into the main hall and they eagerly await the arrival of their new Queen. It's time we got the show on the road."

It was time! Alistair was waiting!

"We'll be outside waiting for you child," said Wynne, touching Rene's cheek. "Don't be nervous now. You'll be wonderful."

"I know that this is not exactly the same as facing an Arch Demon," said Leliana, "but it can be just as scary. Have another cup of tea before you head out; it will give you strength."

As they left, Fergus pulled his sister close, taking her hands tightly into his. He watched her closely; his shimmering with contentment that Rene thought the fool was going to burst into tears. He brushed back a loose strand of hair into place and spoke in a serious yet with equanimity. "Are you ready pup? It's time to go."

It was strange. Rene had been mentally preparing herself for this moment all morning, eager and scared to point that she thought that she was going to explode with excitement, and now that the moment had finally come it was almost too good to be true. Maybe she was too used to things turning out all wrong and the world crashing in around her. She could feel sweat building on her forehead and her heart speed up several hundred beats. She almost felt faint. Of all days for her to try and be optimistic…

"Sister?"

"Fergus, can you wait for me outside?" she asked. "I just want a few minutes to myself to think and such. Don't worry; I'm not going to try climbing out the window and make a run for it. This dress and these shoes wouldn't allow me to get very far." As the baby of the family, Rene had long mastered the art of suckering people to do her 'bidding' with just a pouting smile and a sweet voice. She gave much of the credit to her dear mother who used to say that men were easy to persuade so long as you had the proper training. She used such skills whenever She wanted her brother to play with her, or father to take her riding or convincing Nan into surrendering sweets before supper. Talents of the degree would come in handy as a wife, she just then realized.

Fergus shook his head and sighed, surrendering to his sister's request without argument. He knew her ways too well. "Who am I to bicker with you on your day then? I would be a fool just asking for a beating. Take what time you need sister, but not too long."

Fergus walked to the door, pausing once to look at her again. "Go Fergus. I'll be just a moment."

As he left her alone, Rene quickly began rummaging through a large jewelry box Alistair had given to her as a gift just after the end of the Blight. It was filled of an assortment of treasures that he had collect in their travels; gems and sapphires, charms, rings, and necklaces that he hoped to see her wear one day. She tore through the dangled mess of it all until she found what she was looking for, buried deep at the bottom. Carefully Rene pulled it out and started to admire it in the sunlight. It was a large medallion made of smoothed blue glass that hung a long silver chain. It felt heavy in her hands. Inside the glass was a rose, shrunk and withered and suspended in the center surrounded flakes of gold. Removing her Joining locket and being mindful of her veil, Rene raised the medallion over her head and draped it around her neck, then admired it in the mirror.

She hoped Alistair would like it. Rene had taken great care of the rose that he given in to her. He had picked it in Lothering just days before the town was overrun with darkspawn. He held onto it for some reason after, admiring its beauty and wondering how it managed to survive that long in the midst of so much ugliness. When he gave it to Rene, saying how it reminded him of her…that she was rare and wonderful thing to him. She didn't know what to think about his intentions back then, but she didn't have the heart to let it go. Rene kept it ever since, and when it started to die, Rene still could not part with it so had it fashioned it into something else she could hold onto forever. She had yet to show it to Alistair. Ren had wanted to surprise him at the right time, show him that she cherished everything he had given her – whether it was rose or a life as his wife.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider the idea of running away my dear?" spoke a voice suddenly out of nothing. "Looking at you now in all your suburb beauty and grace, the idea of whisking you away and riding off into the sunset sounds like a good idea to me. Although I must say, you think you should be wearing white? I had always heard that white was only for virgins, and as we all know…"

Rene recognized that suave and condescending tone anywhere, as well as those hinted jabs at her sex life. There was only one person in all the world with that vast lack of shame and respect for personal bounds. She turned from the mirror and almost gasped as she spotted a short figure step from the shadows slowly and make it way towards her. Wearing a long black cloak, the figure pulled back the hood covering its face and revealing a tattooed Dalish elf, grinning like a boyish trickster. He bowed before her.

"Hello again, Grey Warden. It's been too long."

"Zevran…," Rene breathed. "Y-you're here! You made it!"

"But of course I am! Did you really think I'd miss an occasion such as this one?"

"But…you never answered my letters." Zevran had dropped out of sight shortly after Alistair's coronation, disappearing from Denerim without saying so much as a goodbye or if he was planning on returning. Rene can't say that it surprised her that he would take off. She didn't hold him to any kind of contract after the Arch Demon was slain so she figured that he depart on his own accord. Still she wasn't prepared to wake up and see an empty guest room one day with a bed that hadn't been slept in. She had thought about launching a search party, but what would have that accomplished? Zev was a master of stealth and secrecy. He only wanted to be found whenever he chose to be.

A month earlier Rene learned that a Dalish matching Zev's description was seen at known brothel (big surprise), so she took a chance in sending an invite and hoped for the best. Apparently her hopes were enough to bring the flirting bastard out of hiding.

"Look at you," I heard him sigh dreamily, "you've only become ever more beautiful since the last I saw you. Your hair is longer yet still as shiny as the glow of the sun on the oceans surface. Your skin reminds of me of the texture of warm cream and ….my goodness, are you even wearing make-up?" The elf broke out laughing as if her appearance were some great joke. "This alone was worth the trip!"

"Zev, seriously now! Where the hell have you been?" Rene said, trying not to shout and alert her brother. "You took off from the castle without even saying goodbye to anyone! I understand it you didn't want anyone poking their nose in your business, that's fine. But you could've at least have told me something."

"What can I say? I was never one for sentimental farewells," he said casually. "I do apologize however. I guess I'm just used to doing a job and taking my leave once it's over and done with. As for your letters, I did receive them. Thank you for thinking of me my dear. Next time, would you be so kind as to send a care package of cookies and such? It leaves me something to look forward to on the cold camp nights."

"Glad to see you haven't changed that much. So, will you be staying for the ceremony then?"

The elf sighed deeply. "Regrettably, no I'm afraid."

"I see..."

She felt his hand brush against she cheek. "Aww…now I've gone and upset the bride. Such a bad elf I am. I assure you that my absence has nothing to do with you or that delightful fiancé of yours. I have my reasons. How do I say this – you are in the presence of a wanted man my lady. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. You see, it seems my abandonment to the Crows has warranted the attention of some hopeful glory seekers out for the bounty on my head. My former allies have been kind enough to issue the standard 'slaughter on sight' card so I must keep my presence as scarce as possible whenever I travel. But it's nothing that you have to worry yourself about. I've doing a good job of dodging them this long, and leaving behind a trail of corpses of all who think they can get lucky."

Rene stood there with her mouth open, unable the think of a response. She had a feeling that the Crows would come looking for Zeveran after failing his job of assassinating her and Alistair. It was always a possibility that he would become a target for revenge by those who thought of him as a traitor. Listening to him tell me that he had been on the run ever since leaving the castle that night sent chills down Rene's spine. He had been fighting all this time, fighting to stay alive…and he never came to her for help.

"I'm sorry. Did I shock you Warden?"

"Y-you're damn right you shocked me! Why didn't you try and contact me Zev? Why didn't you at least try and send me word of what was going on with you? I could've done something to help you, gotten you some kind of protection."

Once again, Zev laughed at Rene. "I know that we haven't known each other for very long Warden, but since when have you known me to need protection? This is Crow business. I know how they work, and having untrained guards who know nothing of their ways would only get me killed faster." Just then, she saw the humor in his face slowly fade away and was quickly replaced by stoic seriousness that she rarely saw on the elf and his voice lowered threateningly. "Besides, there was always a chance that if I had come to see you, the Crows would catch wind of it and concoct a plan to possibly kidnap you to get to me. I…I could not risk that. I would not do anything that would have put you in any kind of danger. I would die before I let those murdering bastards come with an arms reach of you."

She could feel his gold eyes narrow and burn into her as he stepped in closer. Zeveran moved toward Rene slowly as if he were drawn in by an invisible string. He reached up and held her by her arms, capturing Rene in a firm grip. She raised her eyes to meet his, and saw such determination. His face was unreadable. What was he thinking? He was watching her with expression that made her suddenly frozen, completely hypnotize. He radiated a feral, masculine power that Rene had not seen in a long time, and yet at the same time he looked…susceptible. Gently, as if he feared that she would break, he touched the side of her face with just the tips of his fingers. Slowly he traced the smooth line of her jaw and let his hand slide back cupping her cheek.

Oh Maker…her stomach was rolling. Rene could not deny that there was something magically alluring about Zeveran's presence. He seemed to take pleasure in knowing how it affected her. In the past, he used his appeal to try and weaken her into his bedroll almost daily. When Rene didn't bait, he only tried harder. She fascinated him according to him. But she only ever regarded it as his game to catch her off guard and she always refused to play. Then, unexpectedly one night, he said he cared for Rene. He saw in her a lover and wanted to her to chose, and so she did.

Rene chose Alistair.

She had thought that refusing his advances was part of the reason why he left the castle at one point. Rene cared about Zeveran, but did not love him. And now, with his hands on her body watching her like a hawk for any signs of weakness, Rene could see that the feelings he harbored had not died. The corners of his mouth rose slowly. "I have bought you a wedding gift."

Her body shuddered. "W-what?"

"A present. You didn't I'd come all this way and not bring you something in honor of your big day." He let Rene go and reached into his gear to pull out a small wrapped bundle. He peeled by the cloth and opened his palm to show her two shining gold earrings. "I hope you like them."

"Zeveran! Where did you…"

"Oh I've had them with me for some time now," he said. "I took them off the body of an assassin. I had always thought they looked much too beautiful to be worn by someone so blood-thirsty and ugly. Oh sure, I could've pawn them off or given them to a some woman who showed me a good time but that would've been no better. I'm…not sure if you are one of those kinds of brides who follow the tradition of something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. But if you are…considered this borrowed."

The elf took her hand gently and placed the earring into her palm. She looked at them in total disbelief. They were simple but beautiful at the same time, glittering as if new in this setting sun's light. "Thank you Zeveran…thank you."

"Wear them" She heard him breath, almost pleading. "Put them on before you head out to meet your groom." He was staring at Rene hard again, except now he had a look of worry that made his borrows come together and his tone soften. "I cannot…I cannot be there to celebrate with you today. I've already stay my welcome far too long as it is. As much as I want to, I cannot stay. At least if you wear them, I can take some solace. Please, I ask this….as your friend."

Sadness shadowed over him. She could feel it just as she could feel the darkspawn; a bleak emptiness that could make one feel hallow inside. Rene could see that he wanted to stay, at that whatever he was feeling or had been feeling for her was starting to resurface. Her hand reached out to touch his cheek as he done to her but touched his shoulder instead. "I wish that you could stay Zeveran, my dear friend. I wish that you could be safe and wouldn't have to keep running for your freedom. It makes my heart content however that I get to see you, even for a brief moment."

She hoped her words would bring him some comfort, but it seemed to only create more sadness. He sighed heavily and the smile that never seemed to waver, trembling slightly. She saw pain in his stature. _Maker…forgive me for my cruelty_.

"Then I wish you well, your royal highness. May your days be nothing but blissful and merry."

Without saying another word, Zeveran replaced his hood and bounded towards the window. "Oh, and don't you fret about your guards my dear. I can get past them quite easily. They did not catch me sneaking in; they will not catch me sneaking out. Farewell my Grey Warden. Stay safe and well."

Just as the Dalish leapt from her sight, Rene jumped at the sound of Fergas pounding on the door. "Come now pup! You are keeping your eager groom waiting as well as your hundred of guests! The foul-smelling dwarf friend of yours has already gotten into the wine and is threatening to make a naked spectacle of himself! Best get yourself out here before the main hall clears out in a panic!"


	2. Chapter 2: Eternity Begins

Title: Into a New Age

Author: Ryoko Metallium

**Author's Notes: I'm rather proud myself! It's been a long time, if never, that I've been able to update my work on a regular basis. Now if I can just do that to my other unfinished works, I'll be in business! Seriously I want to take everyone who took the time to read and review the first chapter. Getting good feedback always puts me in a good mood to keep doing what I'm doing. And a thank you to those who favorited my story to their profile! That is extra flattering to me to know that you guys consider me a favorite *sniff sniff***

**This chapter is short but very sweet. I just wanted to get the wedding scene out of the way since it was such a difficult scene to complete. I tried to reframe from using the name I used for my PC Cousland character, but for this chapter it couldn't be helped. Feel free to ignore and add your own in its place. I'll try not to do that in future chapters.**

**Also another thing: just as I always do with my other stories, MUSIC IS ESSENTIAL! For the actual wedding scene, I chose the song "**_**Skimming Stones**_**" by Sleepthief. I urge everyone to listen to it when reading that center part to help add more feeling to it. I absolutely love this song since it reminds me of Leilana's song.**

**Enjoy!**

**Thanks again to Pancake Beast and to Elizabeth Carter for finding my mistakes!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins. It is the property of Electronic Arts and Bioware Inc. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them; I promise that I'll give them back.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Eternity Begins**

Burning scones illuminated Denerim castle's main hall - tall, metal candelabras held bright tapers that burned, bringing warmth to the room. Huge ferns and a vast amount of assorted flowers had been collected and decorated from floor-to-ceiling with beauty. The small balcony's railing had been threaded with ivy vines and budding blossoms. Polished pinewood glistened in the firelight in a rich buster. Late-afternoon sunlight beamed through the color-paned glass. Banners of the kingdom hung proudly from the rafters.

The heavy smell of hot delicious food hung in the air; roasted lambs with cranberry sauce, fresh sweet bread, smoked pork hot off the flame, pheasants marinated in red wine, desserts of colossal portion and enough ale to send an entire dwarven militia into a three months drunken stupor. All the trimmings had been laid out for the grand event. The great hall was packed with attendees, conversation amongst themselves as they waited for the festivities to get underway. There were nobles hailing from the lands of The Waking Sea, South Reach, Dragon's Peak, a few from the Western Hills as well from Redcliffe and Highever. A sparse appearance by the Dalish caught most by surprise and caused some hushed whispers. The presence of the new king of Ozammar and members of his court had people talking. The respected company of Irving and seniors members of the Circle of Magi were walking about, greeting friends with well-wishes.

Somewhere, a red-bearded dwarf was keeping far away from all the hugs and helping himself to his own private stash of Golden Hind ale he had smuggled in.

As far as Wynne could tell, there couldn't have been a more perfect day to bear witness two people be joined in the holy bound of marriage. She watched along side with Leilana with a contented smile, together greeting guests as they arrived. She gazed at the elaborate décor of the hall. No expense with spared evidently. In the past, she had attended weddings but those were common services compared to this extravagance. The old mage was taken completely aback at how striking everything looked. Truly a perfect day for a wedding….now if Arl Eamon could somehow coax his majesty out from hiding…

"I don't know about you, but I haven't been this excited in such a long time," said Leilana. "I have butterflies doing somersault in my stomach. I cannot wait to see her walk down the aisle…I hope I don't start crying once I see her."

"I feel the same way. I wonder if this is how a mother feels on her daughter's wedding day – filled of hope and promise."

"You think of her as your own child then? That's sweet to hear Wynne. I had often heard her say that she say the very same – it makes the pain of her loss easier to bear having you close by. I saw it just now in her chambers as you were helping her dress, and especially whenever you are with Alistair. You scold him just like a mother should."

Chuckling, the old woman shook her head. "Well, I suppose someone has to. He can act like such a child sometimes. The way he walks up to me with those big weepy puppy eyes whenever he needs his shirts mended – the young man would be lost without me." She sighed, almost longingly. "Thank the Maker that young lady has the patience of a saint when it comes to handling him."

Just then the bard nudged the old woman in the shoulder, gesturing off to the side where Oghren was starting to look a little red in the face. He had been keeping to himself since he had arrived, not even bothering to mingle in with his brethren and finding his time best spent keeping the ale company. "We best keep an eye out on him as well. Seems like he's been 'celebrating' since early morning's light."

"Worry not. I have my eye on him," the mage warned. "He says one vulgar comment or so much as opens his mouth to let out a belch…"

"Wynne, I thought that was you."

Wynne turned and saw the head-mage himself coming towards her. She bowed her head courteously to her long time friend and mentor. He appeared to be in good health, thin faced but other still retaining his humble nature. He had worked diligently to get the tower back into working order having suffering a brutal attack from a cult of blood mages. It wasn't an easy task. Some of the most dedicated mages had been lost during the Blight, leaving the Circle significantly weakened. Instructors and advisers were in high demand, and person of Wynne's skills and talents were being viewed as a valuable assist. "Irving, it's wonderful to see you again. I'm so glad that you could make it to Denerium on this day."

"And such a day is it. Ferelden needs a ruler such as Alistair Theirin, and with the Lady Cousland standing at his side as his queen, we can expect nothing but good days," he said with a thin-faced grin. "The Magi owe much to the Grey Warden as well as his highness, for not just ending the Blight but for saving everyone at the tower. Being present at this blissful union is just a small token of our thanks to them. But do not think we have forgotten your involvement as well Wynne, neither yours Lady Leilana. The Circle is forever in your debt."

"No debt is required of your Circle," said Leilana. "We are just relieved that the Magi have recovered since that unfortunate incident. I hear that you have taken the Arl Eamon's son under your teaching."

"Indeed. I confess that a child so young with such impressive skills astounds even me, but I welcome such an eager student. Which bring me to my next question, if you'll forgive me? Wynne, are you sure you will not reconsider returning to the tower?" he asked politely. "As you know, it hasn't been quite the same since the last you've seen it. We are struggling. Many of our old students who remain miss seeing you at the teachings, and we are expecting a surge of new inductees who wish to be trained, and yet we lack the capabilities to meet their needs. We need you old friend. It would be a great opportunity for you to gain the recognition you've richly deserved for years and…"

Wynne held up her hand to halt the mage's request. It wasn't something that she had heard many times before since the Blight came to an end. Or course she was well aware that her popularity had risen at the Circle of Magi and that many of the young apprentices had been requesting for her personal to for her help in their training. They seemed to think of her as some kind of a visionary when it came to magic. There were offers given to her by the council to inherit Irving's position as first enchanter and take charge of the education league of the Magi. A tempting and generous request, but Wynne had turned it down every time.

"I have long considered your request Irving," she said, "but my decision to stay in Denerium reminds the same. I am saddened to hear of the towers predicament, and I truly wish I could help, but I feel my skills are strongly needed here at the side of the new king and queen. My days in the tower ended months ago. It will be hard for thing to go back the way they were before, if that is all possible. Besides, I have a position here in the royal court now. But I believe process will come with time allowed, whether I am there or not."

Irving's shoulders sagged with deep sigh. "You speak wisdom. I admit I had hoped to persuade you to return, but it seems you are steadfast in your decision. I will respect that. And perhaps you are right. I might be too eager to get back into our old routine when I should be using this time to rebuild. This may even be the best time for a sort of renewal in our league!"

Wynne smiled. "I am sure you will your back Irving. Treat this moment as you would a great wound; heal and then from there grow stronger."

Irving bowed low, respectfully. "As always, it was a pleasure and honor to see you again."

"Best of luck to you enchanter."

At that moment as Irving was walking away, Lady Isolde, wife to Arl Eamon appeared seemingly from nowhere and approached Leliana and Wynne. Her ladyship was brilliantly dressed for the occasion – wearing a velvet violet gown with lavender silk in the bodice and roped gold trim. Her hair was styled in two tight braided buns tucked under her ears. Lightly she placed her hand on Wynne's shoulder and whispered closely into her ear so as to be heard over the crowd. "It's time," she said. "Arl Eamon is ready to announce Alistair to the court. It took him some coaxing but he's ready to proceed, and Lady Cousland is waiting outside with her brother."

"At last," Wynne breathed. "Guess that means we should get into our respectably places then."

"I will let the choir know we are ready to begin," said Leliana. "I'll speak to you after the ceremony Wynne, and try not to cry too much."

"I cannot make any promises, but I will sincerely try."

* * *

"His royal highness, King Alistair Theirin, son of Maric Theirin, brother to Cailan Theirin and ruler of all Ferelden."

With that exceptional introduction, the assembly of people parted together as their king appeared before them, walking down the long aisle with the company of Arl and Arlessa of Redcliffe at his side. _'Bastard son…the bastard son of Maric Theirin and the unclaimed brother to Cailan,' _Alistair thought grimly to himself. Arl Eamon announced him with great authority in his voice, sounding almost threatening. An open challenge to everyone. He ventured to guess that was done intentionally to quail any spiteful remarks that could've risen just from the mention of the new ruler's unconventional parentage. The whispers concerning Alistair's bloodline was still the topic of conversation of those who carried some lingering loyalty to Loghain, but Eamon's campaign for the Alistair worked diligently to win approval even after the Landsmeet. Thus far, transition from Loghain over to Alistair had met little resistance. Apparently ending a potential catastrophe was a good way to win votes.

Alistair kept his focus framed on the path before him at the small pedestal holding standing at the top of a small staircase. Two twin crowns rested in on a satin pillow on that pedestal, crafted of white gold crafted elegantly, roped with each other with glistening jewels and diamonds. The Grand Chantry waited next to the crown, holding a book of prayers. Alistair took deep breaths with every step, steeling his nerves while trying to zone out the congregation of people watching him ever closely. They were lowered their heads respectfully to his presence like any league of loyal subjects would do to their king.

'_Okay…try not to panic. It's no big deal; just getting married is all,' _Alistair coached himself. _'You're almost there…deep breaths...don't pay any attention to the thousands of eyes watching you, waiting to see if you happen to trip on a lump in the carpet. Or vomit…urgh, did this walk way just get longer or is it just me? Great, now I'm talking to myself.'_

He didn't know how or maybe through all his inner ramblings he hadn't noticed, but somehow Alistair had managed to bring himself before the entire attendee of Fereldan citizens without any misstep. Maybe the Maker was saving the big stuff for later on, perhaps something along the likes of a massive earthquake or a typhoon rushing in from the sea…Why couldn't he relax? Why couldn't Alistair stop himself from thinking that worst was going to happen? Maybe life as a Grey Warden had trained his mind to always be alert and to question every seemingly peaceful moment as an impending disaster waiting to erupt. At least for one day or maybe the next fifthteen minutes, Alistair swore that he would try to be optimistic.

"Announcing her ladyship, daughter of Teyrn Byrce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, Hero of Ferelden, Rene Cousland."

At the moment, Alistair banished every doubting thought from his mind and looked down to the end of the aisle, eager to see his beloved. The choir at the balcony arose in united harmony like a group of angels, singing a soft hymn lead by Leilana's heavenly voice. Fervent eyes waited patiently for the emergence of the bride. Alistair strained to see if he could catch a glimpse of her, looking over the crowd as best as his tiptoes could offer. He heard the Arl and Arlessa chuckle at his childlike excitement. He looked, and there she was.

"Oh Maker…" he breathed.

Magnificent. That was how Alistair would describe the incredible feeling that course through him the moment he set eyes upon the love of his life as she appeared, walking ever so elegantly and gracefully as if on wings. Her brother escorted her proudly, taking great care with his sister's hand as he led towards her waiting groom. A collective sigh of marvel went up above the crowd who were in all in awe of the Lady Cousland's striking presence, and it was all justified in Alistair's opinion. He didn't think she could be any more beautiful, and yet suddenly he had completely forgotten how the breath or even think. It was utterly amazing the power this woman held over him, over his heart to make it beat the way it did for her. Never in a million years did he ever think that he come across a woman quite like the one he was about to wed.

There was the old pain again; the same brilliant and amazing pain that came around whenever Alistair found himself in her company. It made him dizzy, crazy in love to the point his head was about to pop. Watching her now come ever closer towards him was making his heart speed up several thousand beats. I loved her…**loved **her more than he had ever loved anyone before. Underneath the lace veil, he saw her left up her eyes and he could actually feel them center solely on him. He could feel her smile. Alistair felt his heart swell in his chest; it was taking even ounce of his strength not to rush down those steps and take his woman into his arms right then and there.

Somewhere off to the side, an old mage was trying to reframe herself from crying while a dwarf was raising his flask in a slurring toast before falling over the barrel he was sitting on. There was a loud thud followed by a snore.

Fergus brought his sister up before the Grand Chantry, offering her off to Alistair's waiting palm, which his majesty accepted wholeheartedly. Silence had fallen over the grand hall while the king and his queen looked upon each other with adoring eyes. He tenderly held her hands in his own, clasping them tightly while she squeezed back. They fit so well together, as if the Maker had specifically made them to be together in this way. The great pain in Alistair's heart was making it hard for him to concentrate. Right now, nothing existed except him and the woman he loved. This was meant to be; the two of them were meant to go through tragedy, pain and suffering only to survive and to be united in matrimony.

Alistair shuttered as he pressed his forehead against her, finally finding the ability to breathe once again.

"I love you" he whispered.

She chuckled softly, nuzzling her cheek against him as she moved her lips close to his ear. "Don't you think that you're getting ahead of yourself?" she said. "I do believe you're suppost to save that until after you've said your vows."

"Oh really? Have you forgotten that I'm king now my dear, and that kings get to say whatever they want?" His heart was aflame with adoration for his lover. For a few moments they stood together, face-to-face just looking at each other. He had meant what he said to her. He loved her. For the longest time Alistair had felt like a man wandering, a man with no home and no family to call his own. He was a lost soul. He had hoped once that when he would meet his sister Goldanna, she'd welcome him with open arms as her dear little brother whom she loved. But that was a foolish wish as she only greeted him with scorned hate and bitter venom. The rejection crushed him, but at the same time it made him stronger, better.

Alistair never imagined he'd find such happiness than with the woman he standing before him. They were meant to be together, husband and wife. The endearment rattled him to the depths of his soul. He was her husband. She was his wife. For too long he had walked the world like a ghost. Now he was truly alive. Looking into her eyes, he saw his entire future. He saw all the goodness and happiness life had to offer. This was meant to be. In having her, he had at last found his place in this world, and nothing would ever tear them apart.

"I love you" Alistair whispered again. "Truly and madly my love."

She looked up in his eyes and sighed longingly. "And I you…always and into eternity."

"Your majesties…if I may intervene, can we proceed with the ceremony?" the Grand Chantry timidly interrupted just as the two wardens were about to share a passionate kiss.

Blushing red faced, the bride and groom turned and faced the chantry as she began her prayers as part of the practice. She invoked the name of the Maker and of Andrastate together, raising her hand over them both as they bowed hand-in-hand in respect of the holy name. She blessed them citing that the union of these two people was sanctified, honored and as sacred as the union as any love could allow. She spoke in the old prayers in the old tongue asking that the gods to watch and guide Fereldan's rulers with wisdom and justice.

"Hey," Alistair said in a hushed voice.

"What?"

"Are you nervous?"

"Does it show?"

"A little. Your hands feel just a tad on the sweaty side."

She giggled, giving his hand a slight squeeze. "The same could be said about you, and do I detect the hint of wine of your breath? You haven't been dipping into the ale early have you?"

"Perish such thinking! No way would I get myself piss drunk on today of all days." Alistair stifled a deep burp as quietly as he could. "Although I can guarantee I'll remain as such once the festivities get under way."

"Just stay away from Orghan and I'll think you'll be fine."

"No promises, but I'll try. Hey… did I give you those earrings?"

"What?"

"Those earrings. I don't recognize them. Did I give them you?"

The chantry was just about to finish that last of her prayers. "I'll tell you about later."

As the chantry finished her prayers, the wardens rose to face each other once again. As requested, Alistair carefully lifted the delicate veil and lifted it up over his bride's head to reveal her face. He held her gaze, grinning contentedly. He almost laughed. He wasn't used to see her wearing make-up. He was more accustomed to see her hair matted sticky with darkspawn blood, dripping off her smooth flawless skin. Even with all that crud on her, she was still gorgeous. As the chantry stepped forward, taking their hands and binding them together with a gold rope, Arl Eamon reached for the larger of the two crowns and held it high over Alistair's head. Fergus in turn took the smaller crowns and held it over his sister's head.

"Your vows will now be spoken," said the chantry.

"I, Alistair Theirin, son of Maric Theirin, do take you Rene Cousland, daughter of Teyrn Byrce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, as my wife." His breath exploded from him. He shuddered and closed his eyes as he pulled her hands closely to his chest. "I swear in the Maker's name and of Andraste herself that I will protect you, care for you and honor you to the very last breath in my body. I make this sacred vow before the eyes and ears of the kingdom of Fereldan."

As he spoke the words, Alistair knew that he was walking the right path. Tears of joy were gathering her eyes and her throat was closing in a growing sob. She had to speak her vows quickly before her composure was lost. She pulled his hands close her chest and took in a deep breath. "I, Rene Cousland, daughter of Teyrn Byrce Cousland and Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, do take you Alistair Theirin as my husband. I swear on this day that my life begins with you, as your queen, as your love and as your dearest friend. I will honor your name as my own. I make this sacred vow before the eyes and ears of the kingdom of Fereldan."

"So it has been spoken, so shall it be done" said the chantry, untying the rope thus completing the ritual. The twin crowns were then placed on their heads by Arl Eamon and Fergus, dubbing their united royalists. "Good friends! I give unto you your King and Queen! Bond together from this day forth as your guided rulers and as husband and wife!"

Thunderous applause erupted in Denerium hall that day, followed by cheers of triumph and elation. Music began playing in a lively melody with the voices from the choir. A flurrying of flower petals showered down from the rafters, enveloping everyone in a sea of color. The cheer only grew louder the moment they witnessed the king and queen come together in a fierce kiss, sealing their covenant. Alistair had leaned into his wife and his arms went around her. Her lips were soft, her scent enveloped his brain. She kissed him back, sobbing with bliss while tears finally fell. The cheers continued as Alistair unexpectedly hoisted up his queen, lifted her high of the ground and danced with her in his arms as hearty laughter escaped his lungs.

Even Arl Eamon laughed. He had never seen Alistair so happy before, never so overcome with joyfulness that the poor man seemed oblivious to the scene he was making. Not that he could entirely blame him. Alistair looked as if he could dance with his wife forever. He carried her in the air for several moments before dropping her in his waiting embrace and into another capturing kiss. The applause never ceased when the king and queen made their way through the crowd, the queen herself being carried by the threshold by his highness.

The bells of Fereldan rang loudly that day. It signaled the beginning of a new age of the kingdom and a new age of the country. Hundreds rejoiced together in the castle as well as in the market town, celebrating the dark end of Loghain's reign and the darkspawn siege. For now, the world was perfect – for Fereldan and especially for Alistair and his wife.


End file.
